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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312256">Lying Little Beast</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/catie_writes_things/pseuds/catie_writes_things'>catie_writes_things</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comics What Comics, F/M, Fire Nation Royal Family, Imprisoned Ozai, Post-Canon, Urzai Week, Urzai Week 2020, aggressive hand holding, dysfunctional husband and wife drama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:41:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/catie_writes_things/pseuds/catie_writes_things</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Years later, Ursa pays Ozai a visit in his cell. It seems he has learned nothing - but has she?</p><p>(Urzai Week 2020 Day 7 - Monster)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ozai &amp; Azula, Ozai &amp; Azulon, Ozai/Ursa (Avatar), Ursa &amp; Azula</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Urzai Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lying Little Beast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from the song by Run River North.</p><p>Presumes <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560641">The Tragic End of Fire Lord Azulon</a> is canon.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a short list of people who were allowed to visit the former Phoenix King Ozai in his imprisonment. His son, the new Fire Lord, could of course go where he pleased, and had been known to avail himself of this privilege with regards to his father on occasion, though not with anything like regularity. General Iroh, his brother, came even less often. The Avatar was in theory permitted to see him as well, but had never taken the trouble to do so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And neither had the last person on that very short list of approved visitors, until today.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve looked better, Ozai,” Ursa commented, arms folded across her chest. And while this was undoubtedly true, a fully objective assessment would have conceded that he had looked worse, too. His years of good behavior in his cell might not yet have earned him the right to a razor, but he was at least permitted a comb these days. Ozai’s hair, still long, was loose but neat, and while he had been forced to allow his beard to grow in, he kept it well groomed, as fastidious about his appearance as ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa, for her part, was almost unchanged. There was gray in her hair that had not been there before, but she bore this with the grace and dignity befitting her station as the mother of the Fire Nation’s beloved ruler. She had left the capital a mere princess, the wife of a second-born prince, but had returned a queen dowager.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see the years have been kinder to you,” her husband said in reply. He had last left the capital as the self-crowned king of a new golden age, and returned a prisoner in chains.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa, to his disappointment but not his surprise, did not smile. “Don’t bother with that,” she chided, uncrossing her arms and taking a step closer to the bars of his cell. “You never were one for flattery.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ozai nodded in concession of this point. “Which is why I am being sincere.” He met her gaze through the bars easily, no need to crane his neck, as unlike with his previous visitors he had actually gotten to his feet when she had walked through the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Ursa repeated, one hand reaching to grasp a crossbar on the iron gate that separated them. Her tone was low, dangerous - one Ozai remembered well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He placed his hand over hers on the bar. “Am I not allowed to still find you beautiful?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are allowed </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She spat the last word at him, pulling her hand away. “After all your crimes, even this cell is too good for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Avatar had disagreed, but Ursa had never been afraid to presume on the judgments of her betters. “Is that what you’ve come for?” Ozai asked, spreading his arms wide. “To give me what I deserve? To take your revenge on me, now that I’m a helpless prisoner?” The bars were between them, but Ozai had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. If Ursa had concealed a weapon somewhere on her person, it was only a question of what she could do with it before the guards outside intervened. And Ozai had no great faith in his guards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, his tone was mocking. He didn’t believe she would do any such thing, and she knew it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This knowledge clearly displeased her. “You forget, my love,” Ursa replied, her eyes narrowing, imbuing even the term of affection with the air of a threat, “that it was I who killed Azulon - a helpless old man in his bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ozai let his arms drop back to his sides. “I forget nothing.” Least of all could he ever forget what had transpired </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa drew herself up, squaring her shoulders. “Then you should know very well what I am capable of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Boldly, Ozai reached through the bars - a liberty he was certainly not permitted, and if any of the guards were watching it could cost him his hard-earned comb - but he only did it to place two fingers under her chin. “I never said you were not fearsome, Ursa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa raised one eyebrow, questioningly. “But you are not afraid of me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Ozai quickly replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too quickly, as it turned out, and she saw the lie for what it was. A look of triumph flashed in her amber eyes, and she reached up to take hold of his hand, drawing it away from her face, but not letting it go. Her hands were not as soft as he remembered them. “You always were a coward, weren’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ozai frowned. “How many worlds must I burn to prove myself in your eyes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you have certainly proven your cruelty,” Ursa said, shifting her grip from his hand to his wrist. Ozai felt his pulse quicken involuntarily under her grasp. “But I have heard no tales of your courage.” Her grip on his wrist tightened and she leaned in closer, all cold fury. “In fact, the only person you were willing to face in a duel was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ozai’s frown deepened, and he began to regret having reached for her through the bars. But he refused to pull back. “Only a </span>
  <em>
    <span>prince</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be worthy of standing up to the Fire Lord in a duel,” he argued. Zuko had disgraced himself by his refusal to do so, and the consequences had been no more than honor demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Ursa, as she always had, knew exactly what was in his heart, and where to aim her next blow. “And you would know so much about standing up to the Fire Lord,” she said mockingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ozai closed his fingers around her wrist even as she still held onto his, and if he’d still had his bending he knew he would have scorched her delicate skin. “Why did you come here?” he asked through gritted teeth. “What do you want from me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither of them let go, and Ursa ignored the question. “You play the part of the helpless prisoner very well,” she continued her taunting. “A familiar role, isn’t it? ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you want from me, Ursa? The Fire Lord has spoken.’” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She threw his own words back in his face without mercy, uncowed by his impotent glare. Then, her expression shifted from one of scorn to disgust. “You’ve learned nothing,” she declared. “Maybe it’s a good thing Azula didn’t want to come with me after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ozai let her go suddenly, pulling his hand away as if she had burned him and taking a step back from the bars. “Azula is alive?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa blinked, temporarily shocked into silence, her hand still hanging in the space between the bars. “Did...did you think she wasn’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Zuko never mentions her,” Ozai replied darkly, rubbing his wrist where Ursa’s nails had scored his flesh as he broke her grip. “I assumed, since he had won the crown from her…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That he did what you would have done?” Ursa finished for him, folding her arms again. “That always was your problem. You could never imagine anyone better than you.” She said this last with unchecked maternal pride.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Azula is better than me,” Ozai readily agreed, by way of argument. “I never denied it. I was always proud</span> <span>of her accomplishments, even when she surpassed me.” Especially when she had surpassed him, in fact. That it was </span><em><span>his</span></em><span> daughter who was the youngest firebender to ever produce lightning, </span><em><span>his</span></em><span> child, and not Iroh’s, who was to wear the golden flame of Agni, had been his greatest sources of satisfaction.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Ursa was shaking her head. “Azula is more powerful than you,” she corrected him, disgust giving way in turn to something almost like pity. “But Zuko is more good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ozai’s hands fell to his sides, and curled into fists. The older child, the good child, of course - and she said </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> had learned nothing. “You always did resent her,” he accused, thinking of the countless times he’d caught Azula snooping and eavesdropping around the palace when she was little, seeking out her father when she had been left to her own devices, while her mother doted on her older brother, again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever pity Ursa might have been on the brink of feeling quickly evaporated, and she glared at him once more, but Ozai was no more cowed than she had been. “I will not be lectured on my failings as a parent by you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time it was Ozai who felt the triumph of a hit well landed, and he allowed himself a slight grin. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” he asked, needling her further with the colloquialism.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the same,” Ursa insisted, her voice rising in defensive anger. “What </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> did to our children…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All I did to Zuko was teach him a lesson he needed to learn,” Ozai interrupted, his own voice booming over her impending tirade. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> never harmed Azula!” He let those words hang in the air, as heavy as the bars between them, silently daring her to try to claim that she could say the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa’s eyes were glistening, but Ozai knew better than to mistake his wife’s tears for a show of weakness. She had cried when she murdered the Fire Lord, too. She had made no effort to hide her tears from him then, nor did she now. And neither did she take the bait he had laid out for her. “You really believe both of those lies?” she asked, her voice steady.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You knew how my father treated my brother and I,” Ozai replied. And she could not deny that she had, not when she had so often used it against him, called him a coward and blamed it all on Azulon’s manipulations. She had seen first hand, was intimately familiar with what his father had done to their family. “You knew,” he repeated, “and you did the same to them anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa’s anger did not fade, but it was tempered by the return of that almost-pity which Ozai resented more than her fury. “So did you, my love,” she said darkly, reaching for the bars of his cell once more. Her fingertips drummed idly against the cold iron. “However I might have imitated your father, you excelled him.” She shook her head again, closing her eyes briefly so that two tears escaped and trickled down her face. “At least I can see my own sins. I should have left with Zuko and Azula, as soon as I knew the danger, even if you would not come with us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My father would have found you and killed the boy,” Ozai replied hotly, as if the fight in question had not taken place years ago, as if the wounds were still fresh. “Or I would have.” How was it they wound up back at this same argument? Perhaps neither of them had learned anything indeed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You would have tried,” Ursa corrected him, wiping away her tears. “But they would </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> have been better off away from you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Both of them?” Ozai questioned, noting the specificity of her words. She had not broached the subject so far, and neither had he dared, but now he stepped closer to the bars again, closer to her, in spite of himself. “What of...the other one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa’s eyes flashed. “You are allowed nothing,” she repeated viciously, drawing her hand back from the bars. “Least of all her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A daughter, then. The third child that Ursa had been carrying when she had gone into exile had been another daughter. Ozai pressed on with his questioning. “Does she live, too?” For many generations, the line of Agni’s anointed had produced strong sons, but the daughters, even Ozai’s own sisters, had all been sickly and died young - until Azula. She alone had thrived, strong and vital - truly her mother’s daughter, in that sense. Could her sister have done the same, defied expectations to become just as great - or even, perhaps, one day, greater still?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa crossed her arms tightly as if holding herself back, but for all her resolve she could not let herself say nothing. “Yes,” she spat at last. “No thanks to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All thanks to me, I should think,” Ozai shot back, lunging forward to grasp at the bars with both hands as Ursa took a startled step backwards. “Or have </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> forgotten?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘For the sake of the child?’” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ursa quoted incredulously, shouting his own words back at him again. “You still believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the sake of the child,” Ozai repeated with conviction, “I banished you when you should have been executed in the public square for your sacrilege.” Gripping the bars until his knuckles hurt, he went on, shouting at her with all the fury she had ever turned on him. “For their own sake, I would not let Zuko grow up to be weak, or Azula be made to believe she was ever inferior to anyone! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> I have done as a father has been for my children’s own good! Can their mother </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>say the same?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ursa was crying in earnest by now, her eyes squeezed shut and one hand pressed to her mouth as her shoulders shook. “No!” she yelled at him, not a denial but a grief-stricken confession, a wounded howl that wracked her entire body as she let it out. But then she gathered some of her shattered composure, straightened her back, and opened her still tear-filled eyes. “Their mother does not tell such lies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned abruptly before Ozai could say anything else, strode to the door on the other side of which waited the guards who might or might not have intervened had she tried to assassinate him, and knocked to signal they could let her out. She was done with him. She did not glance back as she left, and the heavy iron door slammed shut in her wake, leaving Ozai alone in his cell once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, the guards came in and handcuffed him, forcing him to sit on a low wooden stool as the prison barber clipped his hair short, close to the scalp. While the barber worked, the guards made a show of searching his cell for any contraband items or illicit correspondence, and of course found none. When they left, they took the comb, of which Ozai no longer had any need.</span>
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